


Stars Align

by TheYoungerMissBronte



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Kissing, Lost Generation, Passion, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27729571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYoungerMissBronte/pseuds/TheYoungerMissBronte
Summary: Gleb sadly accepts that he will never be with Anya, but perhaps the city of light has something special in store for him.Or, the one where Gleb gets a happy ending :)
Relationships: Anya | Anastasia Romanov/Gleb Vaganov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Stars Align

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a series of one-word prompts from my family: Blue, Herculean, Lemonade, Sleep, Celestial, Fire.
> 
> Each word is used at least once in this fic :)

_“Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light_

_I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night”_

\- Sarah Williams, The Old Astronomer to His Pupil

**I.**

He regretted everything.

He regretted his devotion, his care, his love. He wanted to take back all the times he hoped for a brighter future. 

How could he have been so stupid?

Strolling along the Pont Alexandre Bridge, Gleb Vaganov could hardly be distinguished from any other tourist or Parisian taking in the sights of the city. Night was falling. The lamps began to glow, and the hour grew late. Soon the world would descend into sleep.

Earlier that day, he had a flash of hope. Across the street at noon, a petite blonde waved her hands up and down in wild excitement. “ _Anya? Is it really you?”_ Gleb ran over, only for the girl to pass right by, running to the arms of another young man. When he looked back, it hadn’t been his Anya at all. Just another cruel trick of the mind.

All those artists, all the poets and hopeless romantics of the world claimed Paris held the key to happiness and love. _“Yes, I’m hopeless”_ Gleb mused, _“but romantic…?”_ Just when he finally had something special in his reach -

He ruined everything. And for what? What was more valuable than love; be it love for your family, love for a friend, love for…the most wonderful woman in the universe who would never have him.

He had only himself to blame.

_“So Gleb, what did you do?” Gorlinsky spoke over the phone, barely containing the mirth and condescension in his voice._

_His time was up. Gleb had stalled for weeks, trying to gather himself before his return. He wished he didn’t have to go back, but his superiors evidently were growing impatient – or even worse – suspicious._

_Biting his lip, and gathering what little dignity he had left, Gleb replied “It was no use. There never was an Anastasia.” Then, adding almost to himself, “She was a dream.”_

_He didn’t remember what else was said, but he did remember quietly sobbing on the bathroom floor until sleep finally enveloped him and he awoke the next morning not knowing where he was. “Is this it?” he thought, “Am I resigned to have fallen in love with the wrong person?”_

_Then he realized: “No, you fell in love with exactly the right person.”_

There, out in the darkness, his angel was finally free. She would spread her wings and fly out into a world. A warm, welcoming world completely different from his cold, callous country; his cold, callous heart.

Approaching midnight, he was alone on the pavement. The lamps began to flicker, before blinking out. Then, the stars began to appear in their multitudinous wonder

He was swept in a whirlwind of memories. Seeing her on his patrol for the first time sweeping the streets of the Nevsky Prospekt, hardworking and humble. But when he met her eyes, he became lost. That night, he dwelled on them for hours on end. He knew then he would never be her equal. Later, on the train, he questioned how she gained his affection; the attachment between them tightening; his attraction towards her growing stronger.

He wished he told her everything; the words he should have said, the words he never could.

If the whole world was watching, he’d still run to her. More so, he’d stay, he’d be good enough.

He thought back to the last moment he saw her. She had no other choice but to be brave. He knew she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Little did he know it would be the fight of his life. 

When he had said, “for the last time, who _are_ you?” He meant every word. He still didn’t know. He never would. Now, she was gone.

_“It’s hopeless”,_ he thought, _“She has a future, all I have is the past.”_

Oh, Anastasia.

The least he could do was call her by her name; her right name.

The wind brought the sounds of a lonely violin, played somewhere on the banks of the Seine. The tune was familiar, as all violin songs are; an old waltz, reminding him of his homeland. He took out his wallet, examining the train ticket. By tomorrow afternoon, he would be on his way back to Russia. This reverie finally behind him.

When he was a boy, he heard that Paris was the city of light. The city of princesses and fairy tales and romance. Paris glimmered and glowed; the birthplace of modernity. Then, it was a den of iniquity and corruption; the city of royalists and their sympathizers. Now, all he saw was dirt, grime, and cigarette smoke from starving artists and pretentious Americans. It was the place of lost dreams. The dream of happiness, his dream of feeling whole.

A dream only time would fade. 

**II.**

He stared out into the black, stars forming, and someone approaching. He could make out the lines of a delicate face, light cheekbones, a soft brow –

It’s her, it’s always her.

A horribly beautiful illusion drawing together; the night twisting the shadows, the stars revealing her blue eyes.

In a flurry of stardust, she was revealed to him. Coated in white, with a silver tiara in her golden hair. She shifted in the moonlight, and her gown became iridescent. She caught his eye and smiled.

“Hello Gleb.”

“Anya,” he sighed. He knew this dance well. She would trace the contours of his arm, and he would fold her in a wordless embrace.

He wished he could stay in the night forever, but even the night changes. It would end too soon. He would wake, and she wouldn’t be there.

She lightly brushed his cheek, “What’s wrong?”

Gleb paused. This wasn’t how the dream usually went. There was never this much talking. She never showed concern, she was only ever an apparition. A fairy; there one moment, gone the next. She would only ever be a celestial vision. It couldn’t be real, no one ever asked how he truly felt, and tears fell down his cheeks. 

“Anya, I know I can never be with you. I hope you fall in love with someone who will treat you right,” That was life sometimes: being content without what you wanted the most.

With great pain, he looked back at her one last time, and took his leave.

It was for her own good.

He ran far into the woods, but upon hearing the words, “Don’t give up on her,” he stopped. By then the dream was already vanishing, and reality set in.

Gleb woke in the dark of his hotel room, not quite understanding what had happened; why this dream was different from the others. The dream usually left him empty, but this morning it filled him with passion; a fire he had never felt before.

_“I’m through with blaming myself for loving you.”_

For so long his feelings had been in flux: on a pendulum between putting her on a pedestal and dragging her to the pits. Anya and Russia, Love and Duty, Love and Country.

He grabbed his train ticket. In a few hours it would leave, but he wouldn’t be on it. His mind was made up.

He’d join the millions of other young men who wandered Europe lost, dazed, and jaded by the world’s hatred. They had all seen their loved ones carelessly killed as the lucky few grew powerful, and he wouldn’t have it. 

He opened his window, tore his ticket into pieces, and scattered them on the street below.

He couldn’t go back. For the first time – the first in a long time – he admitted that he was too scared. Too scared to go back to Russia, too scared of his homeland. His past.

But he wasn’t afraid of starting a new life.

He looked out the window. Dawn was breaking, a new day began in Paris. Sunbeams reflected off the Seine. The steel of the Eiffel Tower shone in the early rays of the morning.

Time to get moving.

Maybe he couldn’t have her, but perhaps he could have some sort of happiness.

With herculean strength, Gleb lifted himself out of the bed. He shaved, brushed his teeth, and put on the second-hand suit he bought when he first came to Paris. Now, he could be an ordinary man again. That thought made him dizzy with excitement. He didn’t have to be a Deputy Commissioner, or his father’s son. He would never make the same mistakes.

He could never go back to before. All he ever had to be was Gleb. He alone would be the one to move forward.

Giving himself one last look in the mirror, then he grabbed his hat and left his hotel room.

**III.**

For the first time since he arrived, Gleb properly noticed the city. From the open doors of bistros and speakeasies, he heard the intoxicating sounds of jazz. He saw cars, trolleys, trains, the métro. Parisians and tourists alike intermingled in a dance of cultures. It surprised him to find that walking down the Champs-Élysées reminded him of the Nevsky Prospekt. The Neva and the Seine, Peterhof and Versailles. Perhaps all cities had something in common. Maybe Paris wasn’t so different from Leningrad after all.

Gleb suddenly remembered he hadn’t eaten anything since the night before, and he felt famished. Unable to resist, he started towards a café – the Café du Flore – when she appeared.

He shook his head in disbelief. She must have left the moment he let her go. She had the world on her side. Surely, she wouldn’t still wander the streets of Paris.

She turned, and her blue eyes widened as took him in. 

He’d know her anywhere. He had to bite his tongue to keep from calling out to her.

But no, it couldn’t be. It had been weeks since he last -

“Gleb?” 

“Anastasia?”

He stood in suspension, half in agony and half in hope. “What are you doing here?”

She said nothing.

He spoke frantically, “No, I don’t mean it like that.”

_“There you go again, Gleb. You’ve missed your chance.”_ But she shrugged and smiled, “I could ask the same about you. You didn’t go back to Russia?”

Gleb looked away shyly, “No.” He took a deep breath, “I don’t want that life anymore.”

“What’s your hurry?” she asked. 

Déjà vu.

_“What is it about her?”_ Before, he thought it was the work of a mysterious, dazzling aura about her. But today, seeing her in a worn red coat and cloche hat, he noticed something; she was not an angel, not a dream, but a girl. She was a person, he realized, and so was he.

“Nothing.” He gulped, then spoke his next words, “I – I want to get to know you.”

She looked at him, then slowly began to smile, “There’s a café right here. Would you like to join me?”

This could not be happening, not to him; but somehow, he managed to say, “Alright.”

Her grin widened, then she spoke, almost in a whisper, “We’ll make up for lost time.”

He couldn’t help but smile. _“My God, this woman is wonderful!”_

They settled into a booth, with a view of the Luxembourg Gardens. A waiter came to take their order for food and drinks.

“Do you want anything in particular, Gleb?” she asked.

“Uh, no…I’m sure I’ll be happy with whatever you order.”

She smirked, then told the waiter “We’ll have scones and lemonade.”

Gleb’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Lemonade? Anastasia, it’s April.”

“Oh, It’s never too early! And Gleb?”

“Yes?”

She gave him a shy smile, “You can call me Anya if you want to. I don’t mind.”

He paused, then tried searching her eyes for the truth, “You sure?”

Their drinks arrived, and he still awaited her response. She took a sip of her lemonade before answering, “I’m sure,” Then, she smiled, “There’s no one else around. Just you and me, I don’t have to be royalty.”

He thought, _“You already are.”_

Glancing at him, she added, “as long as you’ll be Gleb.”

“I promise.”

He looked over to the side when he noticed she carried a book in her hand. The title was something in English, but the cover was very intriguing. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of it– blue, except for the flashy skyline of a city, and a young woman’s face in the middle, gazing out to the reader.

“It’s wonderful, but sad. The characters have everything, but no one is happy with any of it. I sometimes don’t know how to feel about them all,” she said thoughtfully. She must have noticed him eyeing the cover. “Do you like to read, Gleb?”

He smiled, “I used to, a long time ago.”

“You see that man over there?” She pointed to a somber-looking man with a highball glass in hand; hunched over a notebook and smoking a cigarette, “He’s the one who wrote this.”

“No kidding!” Truth be told, he had no idea that she would be a reader. He thought about her so much, but really didn’t know anything about her, but now he wanted to. What better time to start than now?

And he felt happy. Talking with her was so easy.

Anya smiled back. “Maybe when I’m done you could borrow it.”

“That would be nice,” he grinned. _“Yes, it really would be.”_

They talked for hours. They laughed, they cried, they reminisced about days gone by, and looked forward to what would come next. By the time Gleb had looked out the window, the sun had begun to set and the evening star appeared on the horizon.

They stepped out of the café. The twilight air was pleasantly warm, with only a bite of chill – carrying the uncertainty Gleb still felt despite a lovely afternoon with Anya.

She leaned into him. Without thinking, Gleb moved closer.

“Thank you Gleb,” she whispered. “I’m glad I got this time with you.”

Gleb looked at Anya. She quickly looked away.

“This sounds so stupid,” she added, “but I hear warmth in your smile."

He was taken aback, so much that he didn’t think. She made him feel so seen. “And I see my future in your eyes.”

Gleb stepped back from her. Did he really say that out loud?

“But I’m afraid,” he confessed, ‘I’ve never been good to you.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t be.”

Gleb couldn’t say anything. Anya looked out to the Gardens, leading them towards a glittery fountain, then a funny expression crossed her face. _“Here it is,”_ he thought, _“She’s figured it out. Now she’s going to leave you.”_

Anya looked back at him, and smiled, “Do you think we could try?”

She bit her lip shyly, looking nervous for the first time that night, and he was so worried he had ruined everything.

“Anya, I’m not good enough for you-“ but he was cut off by Anya’s lips pressing lightly against his cheek. It had been the first time she touched him, and he never wanted it to stop.

She pulled away suddenly, flustered. “Sorry, Gleb. I don’t know what came over me –“ It was his turn to interrupt. Gleb smiled wide, pulled Anya close to him, gazed into her lovely eyes, and kissed her softly on the lips.

The world could wait for a moment. There was nothing more to say, there were no words that could accurately express how he felt for her. The two of them together, against a palatial backdrop and a sea of constellations, felt perfect. It was as if the universe itself had planned this moment. Everything in their lives, the good and the bad, led to this. And it was the most divine feeling in the world.

They didn’t have to be Bolshevik and princess, they could just be two young lovers, kissing in the starlight. They could be anyone, anywhere; but Gleb wanted nothing more than to stay here, in the most illustrious city on earth, with her.

At some point, they had to stop. They couldn’t help but smile. So that’s what they did. There wasn’t a past or future to worry about. There was only Gleb and Anya.

He tucked a lock of her hair behind her hair, her fingertips traced the back of his neck. Then, slowly, they pulled away. For the first time, he was at a loss for words; and for the first time, it felt good.

“Goodnight, Anastasia.”

She winked, “I’ll see you out there, Gleb.” 

They locked eyes, until Anya smiled and waved her hand, before turning the corner and disappearing into the night.

A slight breeze rustled the branches of a nearby tree. Buds had begun to emerge, and Gleb could feel the night air lilt with the anticipation of spring.

The breeze also brought with it something unexpected: the lilt of a violin, perhaps the same one from the night before. But this time, it was not a melody of melancholy, it was a harmony of hope. Maybe there were new beginnings in store for each of them: the dawning of a new era where the two of them could invent who they wanted to become. Perhaps this journey involved the other, and maybe, _just maybe_ , something beautiful will come out of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed 😊 I had a lot of fun writing this one. Finally Gleb has a little bit of happiness 💕💕
> 
> I’m still very new to fanfic writing, so I’d love to hear what you think! I’m always looking for ways to improve. 
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading, and I wish all of my American readers a Happy Thanksgiving! Stay safe and be well 💙


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